


Pendulum

by bloodandcream



Series: Ship all the Ships [132]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Blood, Cunnilingus, Dom Abaddon, F/F, Sub Meg, hook suspension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-15
Updated: 2016-10-15
Packaged: 2018-08-22 13:55:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8288062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bloodandcream/pseuds/bloodandcream
Summary: Precision wasn’t necessarily Abaddon’s strong suit. She favored messy and feral sort of play. Nails and teeth on bruised skin until her girl was begging, canings hard enough to split open her ass like a ripe peach meant to be torn into wetly. There was a sort of calm to the preparation for today’s play, but she could always whip Meg into a frenzy later. Figuratively, and literally.





	

The sharp smell of antiseptic never failed to liven her spirits.

Sitting cross-legged on the padded mat of the floor, boots kicked off at the door and comfortable in jeans, Abaddon hummed as she rubbed down Meg’s thigh. A wandering tune, but Meg tapped the fingers of her folded hands on her belly and smiled. Eyes closed, dark wavy hair fanned around her head, Meg’s breathing was steady and even as Abaddon swiped the skin of her parted thighs with cold antiseptic.

The tattoos scattered haphazard across Meg’s body were a strange assortment of typical wall flash, thorned roses, bats and skulls. But there were little feminine touches here and there. Daintily curling pink ribbons halfway down the fronts of her pale thighs, pastel blooming flowers on her hips. Abaddon let her hands linger, smoothing wide circles.

The playspace was booked for the whole evening, and though it was extravagant for just the two of them, it had something that her home playroom wasn’t equipped with. A stable mechanized pulley for suspensions.

A girl had to treat herself every now and then.

Nestled between Meg’s thighs, Abaddon leaned forward to the little stainless steel tray beside Meg’s waist. Naked as the day she was born, Meg blinked her pretty doe eyes open when Abaddon had stopped petting her. Picking up the caliper in red tipped fingers, Abaddon’s every move was tracked as Meg watched. Neither of them talked much, only her tuneless humming filling the wide open space.

The windows of the rented space were blacked out with paint, everything from floor to ceiling black as well. Equipment lined the walls, the center wide open. There was a quiet hum from the fluorescent lights that Abaddon didn’t appreciate. Perhaps it would be worth it to haul a floor lamp in the back of her car next time.

Placing the caliper to Meg’s skin, Abaddon measured down from her knee and dotted the skin with a little blue marker, measuring out from there and dotting a frame for the hook. Repeating the process on the other side, Meg had gone back to laying on the floor with her hands on her belly and her eyes closed as she tapped her fingers to the humming.

Precision wasn’t necessarily Abaddon’s strong suit. She favored messy and feral sort of play. Nails and teeth on bruised skin until her girl was begging, canings hard enough to split open her ass like a ripe peach meant to be torn into wetly. There was a sort of calm to the preparation for today’s play, but she could always whip Meg into a frenzy later. Figuratively, and literally.

Too wide of a mark for forceps, Abaddon pinched up the shaved smooth skin of one thigh in practiced hand, tugging at it, massaging. Bending across Meg again for one of the little hooks already set out from their sealed packets onto the tray, Abaddon slapped the inside of Meg’s thigh to get her attention.

“Aren’t you going to watch?”

Indolently, Meg stretched her arms up above her head and arched her back, pushing her chest up and smiling. “You were putting me to sleep there.”

Pinching at the tender skin at the apex of her thigh, Abaddon pulled Meg’s leg in close to her side and squeezed up the space between the marked dots again, sinking the metal hook in with fluid ease. Almost exactly aligned with the dots, a few inches down from the knee and side to side, the curved hook sat looking pretty.

Meg barely whimpered. Elbows braced on the floor beneath her and curled up, she watched in rapt attention now. Abaddon plucked the second hook, about a palm’s width across, and pierced through the top of Meg’s other thigh. They hardly bled going in.

Spreading her hands against the warm backs of Meg’s thighs, Abaddon stroked down shivery muscles and leaned down to kiss the top of a knee.

Sighing, Meg fell back to the floor.

Abaddon scooted back from between her legs and stood to reach the rig. Snapping the hooks in place, she left Meg in the center to work the pulley where it was bolted at the side of the room. It rose steady and easy until the line was taut and it began to lift Meg as well. The skin of her thighs pulled up around the hooks, like a dress pinched and pulled away from the body.

This wasn’t Meg’s first time, and he wouldn’t be her last, but it was the first time Abaddon had wanted her to do an inverse hook suspension. They’d done inverse harnesses plenty of times with rope, but it was always fun finding something new.

Lifted up high enough that her long dark hair barely brushed the black mat on the floor, Abaddon stopped the mechanical pulley. Circling around Meg, making sure the hooks were pulling even, she let her hands wander down the bare skin of Meg’s thighs and the curve of her waist. Quiet, eyes still closed, Meg dangled her arms down and flattened her palms against the floor. A thin trickle of blood wended it’s way down one thigh, the other barely bleeding enough to bead at the surface.

Standing behind Meg, round swell of her ass at Abaddon’s waist, she curled her fingers into the width of Meg’s hips and pushed. Just a nudge. Sending her swinging forward and that had her groaning, body swaying back, Abaddon pushed again. Let her sway like a pendulum, hung by her own skin, blood going to her head, legs bent at the knee and Meg kicked out as Abaddon snagged one side of her hips and spun her.

Stepping back to watch, Meg’s hands swirled against the floor with a whispering shush, eyes squeezed tight shut and mouth open as she whined. Abaddon knew how she sounded in pain, and how she sounded in ecstasy. The trick was to get a good mix of both. Letting Meg hang and spinning her around erratically, Abaddon could appreciate the picture even if it didn’t make as much of a mess as she liked.

When Meg started to squirm, opened her eyes to seek out Abaddon, belly trembling and toes curled, then Abaddon relented and steadied her with sure hands. Stroking down the warmth of her thighs and holding her a minute, Abaddon dragged her nails back up the skin that was pulling away from her body stretched up to the hooks. That earned her a scream at least.

Abaddon’s fun was in what came next. Letting Meg back down as slow as she went up and disconnecting her from the rig, pulling the hooks out as Meg sprawled on her back eyes open and unfocused, she was loose and drifting on her high. The skin bled when the hooks were taken out, bright and wet down pale skin and this was where Abaddon nested, nudged between Meg’s thighs and mouth latched on over a tattooed ribbon as Meg writhed under her.

Dragging bloody lips down to the heat between Meg’s thighs and leaving a trail of teeth-sharp bruises in her wake, Abaddon was greedy to taste her. The salt of her sweat and the iron of her blood, the earthiness of her sex, as Abaddon bit her way from side to side, sliding tongue and lips up the other thigh to the red dotted marks the hook had left.

Meg folded her arms beneath her head and watched. Glassy eyes and lip between her teeth, chest heaving as she rolled her hips and begged with whimperings. Abaddon rent at her skin and raked paths with her nails down the sides as she took the offering of Meg’s body. Slick and sweet and easy, Meg dripped wet against her face when Abaddon buried herself between dark curls.

She’d have her girl screaming on her fingers, hooked into her body to keep her anchored like she was still dangling, working her into frenzy until Meg would be shivering with it and begging for Abaddon to stop.

It was easy to tip pleasure over into torture if one was industrious enough.


End file.
